


Some Nights

by ketomax



Series: FrostIron Prompts [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, I put this in my frostiron series because I wrote it with frostiron in mind!, Implied Frostiron, Implied Relationships, NOT Tony/Peter!, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Peter Parker, Psychological Trauma, References to Depression, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Trans Peter Parker, Trans Tony Stark, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-06
Updated: 2020-04-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:49:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23513410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ketomax/pseuds/ketomax
Summary: Tony has flashbacks from Manhattan, his room is a mess, and he's not... entirely present in this reality. Peter swings by to check-up on him, wholesome heartwarming content.Based on/inspired by a piece of art by https://chase2452.tumblr.com/- I hope they don't mind!
Series: FrostIron Prompts [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1690357
Comments: 2
Kudos: 40





	Some Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this while I was on rota at work, if I'm working during my holiday break y'all better believe I'm going to make it worth my while. Funnily enough I actually wrote this, looked at my own room, and shamed myself so hard it wrapped around to me spending a whole day tidying my own shitpit.

_ Well, some nights, I wish that this all would end  
'Cause I could use some friends for a change  
And some nights, I'm scared you'll forget me again  
Some nights, I always win (I always win)  
But I still wake up, I still see your ghost  
Oh Lord, I'm still not sure what I stand for, oh  
What do I stand for?  
What do I stand for?  
Most nights, I don't know _

_ [Some Nights - fun.] _

* * *

Tony was exhausted. His eyes drifted to the clock, flashing dimly in the dark room. He could make out the digits as his eyes struggled to focus.

_ 2:15am _

Fuck. Less than two hours sleep... He groaned softly rubbing a hand over his face to try and wake himself up, knowing sleep would probably be impossible for yet another night. His head was swimming, the things he had seen, the visions in his mind... too much for any one normal person to cope with.

Well, he was just a normal person, really. He wasn't a super soldier, a trained assassin, a master archer, or a goddamn god... Tony was a guy that was good with a wrench. He sat up on the edge of the bed, sheet falling away to his side to allow the light blue glow from the arc reactor to illuminate the area in front of him. Cans and wrappers and odd socks, shirts, and jeans were scattered across the floor, and in that moment he was grateful that nobody was allowed into his private bedroom but him. It wasn't really a fitting look for the man that owned one of the top fortune500 companies after all...

"Fuck..." Tony groaned again, as he rested his head in his hands. He was... exhausted. Big bags were beginning to take permanent residence under his eyes and he was beginning to really feel the emotional low hit as his face felt scratchy against his hands. No time like the present to shave, he thought to himself.

Stepping on a few cans, Tony made his way to the en-suite and shuddered as the light flickered on automatically, blinding him for a brief second. He caught sight of himself in the mirror, eyes tired, hunched over, tank tee rolled up a little from his brief nap and sighed deeply. An eerie silence was hanging heavy in the air and punctuated only by the occasional sigh that loosed itself from Tony’s lips. He leaned over the sink and raised a finger to gently prod at his cheek as if examining the state of his facial hair. "Ugh..." he mumbled, eyes drifting from his reflection to find a yellow post-it note stuck loosely to the mirror at the bottom corner by the tap.

Tony lifted it up, peeling it from the glass to squint a little at the writing.

_ Don't forget your T shot. -Peter _

A smile crept across his face and he chuckled a little, replacing the note on the mirror but a little more at his eye height. Of anyone that managed to get into his room, he was glad it was Peter. The kid was good, he didn’t judge, he understood the  _ struggle _ more than anyone else. Rhodey tried, but he would never truly  _ get it _ . Another big sigh later, he grabbed the shaving foam and razor and began to get himself ready. He had dreamed of doing this since he was a child, but the more he felt obligated to do it, the more tedious it became. Not to mention he didn’t have a parental figure to ask on how. He was smart, he figured it out over time, obviously, and the design he chose was mostly to practice his angles and shaping.

Tony admired his work in the mirror, if he didn’t look so tired he would have said something snarky, something smooth to stroke his ego. What he didn’t expect was the noise at the en-suite door.

“Mr Stark?” It was Peter, standing there in his pajamas holding a bottle of water. He didn’t look as tired as Tony, and for that he was grateful. “Are you okay?”

He put on a brave face for him and smiled, nodding a little. “Yeah kid, I’m all good. Never been better.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, seeing immediately through his bullshit and cocked his head to the right a little, just assessing the man. Tiredness, another midnight shave, the mess in the bedroom? The man was falling apart. Not to mention hearing the second hand tales from Steve and Clint about the rocket of Manhattan- that must have fucked him up a lot. “Uh-huh. And I’m the king of France,” he opened the water bottle and took a healthy gulp before looking back at Tony. “I know your routines Mr Stark, you wanna talk about it?”

God, the kid was too good for his own… good. He was always hyper aware, even when not actively using his ‘spidey senses’ (which Tony just viewed as ‘advanced anxiety’,) and he was sure that JARVIS let the kid in for Tony’s own good. “It’s not a routine, it’s just-”

“Can’t sleep, moody because you’re low and need your shot, having nightmares, haven’t tidied- I know what you’re like Mr Stark… just, let me help? Please?” His voice was keening, needy, desperate to please. The two of them were like kindred spirits, and sometimes it really did feel like them both against the rest of the team. Natasha had got shitty with them both for not coming with them to the pool floor, and she couldn’t understand why they got shitty back. (“Look we’re just not water people! Arc reactor and water- doesn’t mix.” “The water on my skin freaks me out, I gotta spend hours toning it down for a shower, I really don’t wanna do that right now.”)

“...damn, kid. You’re right, you’re fucking right. I just. I can’t talk about it, you know?” Tony relented feeling a weight lift from his shoulders already and left the bathroom to take a seat on the edge of his bed, luckily not stepping on anything weird on the way. His hand rubbed his chin and jawline, absentmindedly admiring his shaving job. Maybe he could teach Peter when he finally got the chance to medicate… his mind drifted again and Tony forced himself to concentrate. “Nobody else would understand- could understand. Steve snapped at me earlier and I just, I snapped back, I was so bitchy! I mean, more than usual. God, I forgot what it’s like 24/7 to feel like this. It’s so shitty.”

Peter sat on the other end with his legs crossed, bottle of water in the hollow where his legs folded into the cross. “Yeah. It’s rough man, I can’t say I particularly enjoy it either… Hopefully in a month’s time I’ll be rid of it for good.” Peter mumbled a little, looking up at the older man. “You wanna just… go get some drive thru?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. “Everyone else is out for the count and I just. I could do with some fresh air. If, if you wanted to, of course.” Peter always felt so unsure when suggesting things and looked a little to the side overwhelmingly self conscious.

His voice was wavering in his head and he let a small smile form on his face as he nodded. “...yeah, I’d like that, actually. I could do with a break and I’m really… hungry.” Tony paused as he tried to recount the last time he had eaten and struggled to come up with something that wasn’t alcohol which he was sure Peter wouldn’t consider food. “Fuck, I’m  _ really  _ hungry.” Tony was now acutely aware of how much his stomach was  _ growling at him _ and he shifted a little uncomfortable. “Hey, Peter…”

Whenever Tony called him by his name, he knew the man was about to say something important and he swivelled a little on his spot to face him, eyes bright and face with a smile to greet his important words. “Y-Yeah, Mr Stark?”

“You think one day we could tell… them?” his voice wavered, looking equal amounts of hopeful and afraid. It was unusual to see Tony so vulnerable and Peter wondered exactly what happened in that cave in the middle of nowhere to change a man so quickly and completely. Or maybe, he thought, that Tony always had those demons inside of him, and the experience let them out.

Peter hummed a little, “I… I would like to think so, Mr Stark. I mean… I don’t think it would change how they feel about us, we’re a team, we work together, we live together. Anyone that isn’t cool with it kinda needs to leave… it’s 2020, you know?” Peter despite being merely 17 was wise beyond his years and had such a level head that Tony could have only dreamed of at that age.

A chuckle bubbled up from Tony’s core and he smiled at Peter, nodding. “Yeah, you’re right. Throw ‘em off the balcony, it’s 2020 motherfuckers.” He flexed a little merely to add more comedy to the absurd line of thinking they were both following, grateful he elicited a snort from Peter. “Thor wouldn’t even bat an eyelid, what with his brother Loki…” Tony’s thoughts trailed off again at the mention of that name. That brought up a lot of repressed feelings, some good some bad and all completely mental. He couldn’t open that can of worms right now, not with the kid here.

Peter’s eyes flickered a little as he noticed the subtle twitch in Tony’s fingers and the vacant look in his eyes; coupled with the distant expression it made him wonder what the man was recalling. “Hello? Drive thru? What you want, I can swing through and grab it and be back in less than 10.” He was already getting up to go and get ready and clicked his fingers to snap Tony back to the present.

“Oh… oh fuck. Yeah, right. Uh. I’ll have like. A cheeseburger- wait, wait no. Two. And some mozzarella sticks. And the good dip,” he listed the things off on his fingers, urged on by his growling stomach. Peter was a godsend, the kid was way too good to be hanging around the tower but yet… it gave him an outlet. Peter grew and became a better, wiser person, Tony had someone to relate to, to act like a father to; it was a fantastic father-son tag team.

Peter returned and opened the window feeling the cool Manhattan air rush in. The song of the night air was calling him and he was always prone to answering; perching on the window ledge he looked back once more at Tony and nodded, “Alright, back in 10. Don’t fall asleep, alright?” and with a quick finger salute, he fell backwards out of the window and swung downtown leaving the cool breeze to drift into Tony’s room.

While he waited he figured he could tidy a little and grabbed the waste bin and began picking up cans and wrappers, stuffing them into the trash at a fairly decent pace. It didn’t make much of a dent in the overall state of the room, but Tony felt a little better knowing he had at least  _ started _ and he was almost certain Peter would notice and comment; from anyone else he would have flipped them the bird. At least from Peter, he knew it was genuine. “I need to really… sort this out. It’s a goddamn mess.”

Tony mused to himself; was he talking about his life? His room? He wasn’t sure.

All he knew was that when Peter Parker wandered into their lives, things got a little brighter.


End file.
